


This Isn't Awkward At All

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Gen, filling in the blanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 13:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>'This isn’t weird at all.’<i> Stiles snarked internally to the broken down ceiling, watching the dust motes dance around in the sunlight, <i>‘Just me and the local Alpha standing around in his broken down home. Staring at my passed out best bud…without talking.’<i></i></i></i></i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Isn't Awkward At All

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this headcanon/post](http://chaoticwaltz.tumblr.com/post/52151660163/scott-unconscious-stiles-hes-out-derek)

"He’s out." Derek’s declaration made Stiles take a step back, fingers flexing as he did so. Wow, his knuckles feel stiff as Hell!  But it was bound to happen Stiles supposed, clenching his fingers into tight fists before relaxing them, given how much effort he had to put into holding Scott down.

He let out a relieved breath when the older werewolf turned the blow torch off, nose wriggling as Stiles grimaced at the smell of burnt skin. Urgh, that one was gonna stick with him for a long while. He really should have figured that getting a werewolf tattoo would have involved some kind of serious bodily harm. Stiles' first guess had involved copious use of woflbane and pointy needles however, so he wasn't sure how tattoo by fire ranked against it. Not yet anyways. Give him a day or two.

Better Scott than him though. Stiles leaned forward to give Scott’s cheek a quick poke “Scott?" He asked, just wanting to make sure that Scott was really out. "Anyone home?" Scott’s head lolled to the side, sweat glistening in the soft light, breathing even and steady as he slept his hurt off. 

Wondering if he had a marker handy (Stiles was totally gonna doodle a villains goatee on Scott’s face, complete with a monocle around his left eye), Stiles continued to poke his best friend’s face, one hand checking his pockets for a pen. At the very least, he _had_ to have a highlighter on him.

"You cut your hair." The sudden statement made Stiles jump (Not guiltily thank you very much!), hip bumping into the chair, making Scott wobble dangerously to the left (Stiles’ left, not Scott’s left). Making a grab for Scott’s shoulders (Just because Scott could heal from his injuries didn’t mean that Stiles wanted him to get an extra bump on the head while falling out of a chair), Stiles mumbled, “Yeah." 

He made a disgusted face as the smell of burnt flesh crawled up his nose and took residence. _GOD!_  That was just… Making a choked little noise, Stiles shook his head in an effort to get rid of the scent. He rubbed his nose, pausing momentarily to sniff his fingertips curiously (Why did they smell kinda like grass? Highlighter smell he could get, but why grass? He hadn’t been near any grass all day! And what was that other smell…Never mind, not important right now!) before looking up at Derek. Who was behind him.

Awkwardly.

It was all in the body language. Shifty eyes, shoulders slumped forward and… okay, well maybe Derek wasn’t really feeling awkward but it wasn’t a not-awkward silence growing between them. And if it wasn’t not-awkward then Stiles felt confident enough to classify it as an awkward silence so there.

After making sure that Scott wouldn’t fall over or anything, Stiles took a few steps back (ignoring the way in which Derek followed).  _‘This isn’t weird at all.’_  Stiles snarked internally to the broken down ceiling, watching the dust motes dance around in the sunlight, ‘ _Just me and the local Alpha standing around in his broken down home. Staring at my passed out best bud…without talking._ ’

Smacking his lips together, for a lack of anything better to do really, Stiles sneaked a glance at Derek (who had already settled into  _his_  idea of a relaxed pose, crossed arms and all. Although how  _anyone_  could be relaxed in  **those**  jeans, Stiles had no idea) before sticking his thumb into his pockets. As he drummed his fingers against his thighs, he wondered if maybe he ought to say something. Maybe ask Derek about where he was living now. Or maybe about the weather, that was a safer topic. Or hey, there was always sports right? Was Derek even interested in sports or anything? Maybe weather would be the better option… 

From the corner of his eye, he watched Derek shift in place before they both resumed staring at Scott. Just waiting for him to wake up again.  _‘This is **so**  creepy. Why does this keep happening to me. Seriously!’_ Stiles whined to the hole in the ceiling, opting to let the feeling out as a heavy sigh before he began to wriggle his toes inside his sneakers (Dammit, was that a hole in the right sock?)

The loud gasp that Scott let out pulled Stiles attention away from the state of his socks and he very nearly let out a  _‘Oh thank GOD FINALLY DUDE’_  in his relief. 


End file.
